


Lacquer

by plant_flwrs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred Weasley Paints His Nails, Fred Weasley is in Love With Reader, Fred Weasley/Reader fluff, M/M, Soft Fred Weasley, background george weasley & lee jordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plant_flwrs/pseuds/plant_flwrs
Summary: Fred asks you to paint his nails(reader is gender neutral)
Relationships: Fred Weasley & Reader, Fred Weasley & You, Fred Weasley/Reader, Fred Weasley/You
Kudos: 25





	Lacquer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr (@plant-flwrs) where I have lots of other hp and Weasley twin content. Anywho, Fred Weasley paints his nails and that is all.

The first time you noticed Fred staring, you were sitting on the floor in front of his bed, using his trunk as a desk as you worked on some Potions notes. Fred hung off the end of his bed, looking at you from upside down. The blood was rushing to his head, so his hair and face were just about the same color. He didn’t seem inclined to move, however, and his eyes were staring at the way your hands glided over the scroll you wrote on. You thought he might like your handwriting, or maybe he was just zoned out. 

The second time you noticed him staring, you were leaning against a thick oak tree by the Black Lake. Fred was laying between your legs, head propped up on your stomach. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tapping mindlessly on his chest. His head was tilted down, and you thought he had fallen asleep until his arms were moving. His larger hands grasped yours, twining your fingers together. His hands were pale and strong, like the rest of him, but slightly calloused from years of gripping his beaters bat. There were some freckles that crept down his wrist, like sparse constellations of stars, on his hand. He held your hands in front of his face, idly twisting and running them over his own hands.

The third and final time, he was very obvious. You were in his dorm again, waiting for him to be done with practice. You had long abandoned your homework, instead choosing to paint your nails to pass the time. You sat by the window, on the ledge, so the nail polish wouldn’t stink up the whole room. Fred and George bounded in, laughter on their lips. George shoved him to get to the bathroom first, slamming the door and locking it before Fred had even moved from the doorway. His eyes were locked on you, gaze flicking between your hands, the nail polish, and your face.

“Hey, Fred,” you said, carefully twisting the cap back onto the bottle. “Practice alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, dropping his things at the foot of his bed and coming to sit with you at the window. “Alright.”

You moved your hands in the air, letting the breeze harden your nail polish. Fred picked up the bottle you had put down, twisting it in his hands and reading the label.

“This a muggle thing?” he mumbled, holding it close to his face and squinting.

“Yeah, but they have magic kinds,” you said, holding your nails out and then bringing them closer to your face, cleaning around the edges. “There’s this one that I like, it’s black, and after it drys the galaxy and stars appear and move with your hands.”

“Hm,” Fred hummed absentmindedly, still playing with the bottle. 

You suppressed a smile as you gently took the bottle from Fred. His eyes moved to yours, abandoning the nail polish for the first time since he sat down. 

“Want me to?” you asked him quietly, smiling at him.

Fred’s brows furrowed, and his head turned to look out the window for a moment. You stared at him, not used to moments where Fred actually stopped to think about something. His face was serious, his jaw clenched a bit. He looked stern from the side, his hair damp and sweaty from practice and a slight red flush still on his cheeks and neck. His freckles were coming out as the sun did, and his hair was getting lighter, too. When he turned back to look at you, you felt your face soften. Fred could be so pretty sometimes. 

“Yeah,” he decided, holding his hands out to you, “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you took his hands gently, placing one on each of your knees.

Fred watched every move you made, when you shook the bottle, when you opened it, when you lifted the cap and when you rubbed off the excess nail polish on the side of the bottle. Fred watched with a small smirk as his nails were being painted, nice and slow so you wouldn’t mess them up. 

“I just realized,” you said slowly, leaning back to look at his nails before bending over again to continue, “we’re going to have matching nails.”

Fred laughed lightly, and the small action made hair fall into his eyes. He waited for you to be done with the nail he was painting before he shook his head back, his hands flailing in front of him slightly with the strained effort of not touching anything. 

“You willing to go ginger, too?” Fred joked, leaning forwards and haphazardly pushing your heads together. He pushed, and you leaned back some before you pushed back. You met in the middle, both hunched over Fred’s hands as you did the final coat.

“You already have a twin, Freddie,” you mumbled, fighting against Fred’s head to keep still and do a good job. 

“You’re much cuter than he is, though,” Fred sighed, leaning back and admiring his nails with a wide grin.

“Hey!” George scoffed, feigning offense as he entered the room and toweled off his shaggy hair.

“It’s true, mate,” Fred said, wiggling his fingers and resting them back on your knees, “easier on the eyes.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, standing carefully so Fred’s wet nails didn’t get caught on you. 

“You can’t shower until those are dry,” you said, taking the nail polish and twisting the cap tight, “Which is a bummer, because you reek.”

George howled a laugh and Fred scowled at you. He stood, taking a playful step towards you before you held your hands out, “Ah! Can’t mess up your nails, Fred!”

George laughed again, slipping on a sweater over the shirt he had on.

“Where are you going?” Fred shifted his gaze from you to George, watching George gather his things into his school bag.

“Lee said he’d help me study for the Care of Magical Creatures Exam we have next week.”

“Interesting,” you drawled, looping your arm on the bedpost of George’s bed and swinging into his personal space, “because I can’t recall seeing Lee taking notes in Care of Magical Creatures this week. Or any other week, ever, for that matter.”

George blushed, playfully shoving your shoulder. You spun the other way, smiling at him as he gave you a rude gesture before he slammed the door shut.

Fred came up from behind you, wrapping his arms carefully around you and hovering his hands above your waist.

“Careful!” you yelped, taking his hands and inspecting the nails.

“Dorm to ourselves,” Fred murmured, leaning down to press his lips to the spot beneath your ear, “What to do with all this space?”

“What to do indeed,” you twisted in his arms, looking up at him, “Except watch your nails dry.”

You quirked a teasing brow, sliding out from his grasp and falling onto George’s bed. Fred groaned in distaste, falling onto his own bed and waving his hands frantically in an attempt to get them to dry faster.

\---

Fred liked to credit himself for the idea of you painting his nails. You liked to think it was your idea. The origin got lost in the details, but the end result was undoubtedly the best decision either of you had ever made. 

Fred had always loved the way your hands looked on him. When he held your hands, the elegance and perfection of your hands in his made his heart stutter. He could watch the way your fingers looked as they slid up his chest for hours. 

What Fred was starting to love even more, though, was the way his hands looked on your body. He had taken to new positions when you made out in his dorm, small changes that he didn’t think you’d notice.

Fred twisted from where he planted himself between your legs, facing you and crawling up your body. He reached down and grabbed your thighs in each hand, his eyes trailing the movement as he did it, and pulled you down the bed so you laid flat. Fred heard your breath hitch, so when he leaned down to kiss you again, he was smirking. 

When he finally pulled away for air, he lifted off of you. His hands slid down your sides, the polish on his nails long chipped, and worked back up your sides, lifting your shirt. 

His eyes glazed over and he felt like his arms might give out, so he fell back onto you and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. You let out a laugh that sounded like a punch of breath and brought your hands to his hair. His breath was hot against your neck and his eyelashes tickled a little, but you didn’t mind.

You tore one of his hands away from your hips, holding it out to the side of you both.

“Need a manicure, Freddie,” you teased, making a tsking sound as you ran your fingers over his nails, “No respectable boyfriend allows their nails to chip like this.”

Fred chuckled, sending more hot air onto your neck, and retracted his hand from your grasp.

“Get on it, then,” he mumbled, squeezing you tighter and flipping you both so you sprawled on top of him.


End file.
